The Veil Between Worlds
by SapphyreMyst
Summary: AU. When a strange rune appears on Tifa's hand, her life is thrown into chaos. Strange visions, random voices in her head, mentions of other worlds, a soul-bond with a spiky-haired man who is both familiar and a stranger; she's not going insane, right?


**Disclaimer:** I do not in any way own Final Fantasy 7 or any other game/book/movie/etc that I may use in reference within this fanfiction. I do not own the characters, the worlds are borrowed, etc, etc. And this applies to all other (possible) future chapters. Plot of this story is pretty much mine. If you think I took some ideas off of your own stories or someone else's, I'm sorry. I don't mean to plagiarize. Drop me a message if it bothers you and I'll change it if I think it will be suitable to the story.

**Warnings: **Possible OOC people (not really sure if they are, but just in case...). May contain or imply mild coarse language/behavior. May be majorly confusing and disjointed (bear with me, here).

**Rating:** For now, T. May change in the future.

* * *

><p><strong>The Veil Between Worlds<strong>

_Origin Zero, Phantasia finalis, Velum inter mundos_

Darkness surrounded her, an endless void of a gnawing nothingness that threatened to consume her. She saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing. All she could do was to stumble endlessly on, walking through the void for what felt like all of eternity. She didn't know how long she had been walking or how she had come to be there but as soon as she tried to explore the thought further, it slipped away like water through her fingers; gone but with haunting remnants still brushing against her consciousness. She only knew darkness. She only knew the numbing silence and the seemingly icy air. But she wasn't aware of anything beyond that.

But something changed. She could feel something calling to her, pulling her very core ever on into the twisting liquid shadows, flickering at the edges of her vision. There seemed to be nothing and everything at once; darkness and light, thunderous roars and the merest hints of whispers. It was something vast, ancient.

And now she could see it before her, playing at the edges of her vision. Faint tendrils of dancing _raiko_ light, light that was moonlight and shadows, silver and misty blue and blinding green, flashes of gold. It flickered teasingly in front of her, spilling stardust across the twisting shadowy walls and radiating unbound energy. Her footsteps quickened and moved at a blinding speed towards the _raiko_. Then she rounded the corner and gasped. She had stepped into a whole other world. She was in the largest cavern she had ever seen, and the cavern ceiling was hundreds of meters above her head, made of what seemed to be transparent crystal.

Curved, translucent crystal and glass replaced the dark, slick, onyx rocks on which she had walked, the long walkway gleaming in the sudden twilight. It curved into steps that led down into water, immense lakes on either side of her. It was a sheet of glass, reflecting the cavern ceiling far above perfectly, and disturbed only by the slightest of ripples shimmering over the surface. They were endless voids of nothingness and filled with the most holy of light at the same time, glowing silver and blue. The crystal pathway led to other, lesser caverns filled with the same glowing light through intricate, delicate gateways along the sides of the main cavern, and she glimpsed wondrous sights, but felt no need to wander off her path.

She glanced up and briefly paused in her stride at the _raiko_ above. It was thick in the air, arcane eldritch magicks pulsing energy, weaving through the air above like a river of unbound, sentient energy. She drew back as a tendril of pure green light stretched towards her. She heard them. Voices, murmuring soft whispers and howls and screams and snarls. As the light brushed her pale arm, she was rocked backward with a strange, invisible yet insistent force as her vision was suddenly filled with images flashing past, disorienting her with visions of lives lived and lost, long gone. She closed her eyes, dark lashes brushing pale skin, and felt soft wings envelop her, dark feathery whispers against her skin. Then they were gone and she was left in abrupt silence and gloom, briefly wondering if she had just imagined it all. She opened her eyes and found herself alone in the dim twilight of the cavern. She shook her head. She was imagining things. But imagination or not, it had felt so _real_.

Her feet slowed as she reached the steps leading down to the silver-black water lapping gently at the bottom steps, splashing slightly over the rim of the next ledge. A long band of shimmering light expanded across the waters, stretching across distance and time into the never-ending gloom. She hesitated to step on the pulsing, swirling light as it seemed so insubstantial. But she did not hesitate long and placed her foot warily on the new path and put her full weight on it when it held and proved sturdy and strong. But her vision flashed again and the cavern seemed to morph before her eyes. There was a massive, transparent sphere of swirling energy that enveloped the cavern. Beyond the cavern walls, there were flashes of liquid shadows and bright bursts of light. It was confusing, so confusing. She glimpsed strange other worlds: an exotic jungle; snow-covered mountains; glowing metallic cities; dark barren plains; delicate, translucent metropolises; silvery foggy valleys; quiet quaint villages; majestic castles.

Glowing crystal chrysalises hovered over the water, strange sculptures that pulsed with colored silvery lights at their core. They glowed, translucent and delicately shaped. She paused. They were perfect, too perfect to have been made by mortal hands. She began to calm, soothed by the cold silence of the cavern, the serenity of gently rippling waters, of glowing lights and pristine sculptures.

And she saw a large, silvery glowing crystal that seemed to be made of ice, delicate lacings of frost that floated before her at the end of the energy pathway. It was shaped something feminine, humanoid and beautiful beyond words, radiating purity and light and seeming almost sentient. She approached it cautiously and involuntarily looked into the depths of the silvery pool at its base.

Tilted, exotic eyes of fiery red embers within liquid shadows and shimmering creamy brown-gold stared back at her from below arched dark brows, stunning against a heart-shaped creamy face, framed by silky black tresses. She froze at her own reflection. The long dark cloak around her shoulders, the fingerless leather gloves, and the crystal pendant- it all seemed so familiar, yet she felt as though she were looking upon a stranger. She had no memory of all this. She couldn't remember where… how? Who?

Who am I? _Who…?_

She stilled as someone – something? – spoke in her mind. It wasn't exactly like the voices of before. It was inflectionless and yet filled with emotion. It was a single voice and a thousand voices all at once – male, female, young, old.

_Welcome, __**custos memoria**__. We have been waiting for a long time for you to return. You must remember now._

The image reflected in the water shifted and morphed, showing her a dark forest, of wolves and glowing blue eyes, of blood and corruption. She saw a bleak landscape full of corruption, despair, violence, and hatred. Dark, ruthless eyes that held no mercy stared coldly at her, mocking her. The images shifted again and she was shown something that had her reeling back from the pool with a wild, anguished cry.

Panting, she warily glanced back at the pool. But the water held nothing, no hint of the horror that had been depicted in its depths, only the darkness and silvery light that streamed up from its eternal depths.

_It's time to wake up, little Guardian. Reclaim your lost fragments, and return to us as you used to be._

* * *

><p><em>Seventh Heaven, Mako World Parallel A<em>

The night club is packed, spilling out its load of writhing human bodies out into the dark mako-lit streets. Their skin is sticky with perspiration from the stifling heat of the bar and from the alcohol that burns like fire in their veins and taints their natural mortal scent, glazing their eyes and dulling senses.

The crush of human bodies seems to swell and move in chaotic rhythms, multicolored strobe lights casting almost-hypnotic patterns in the hazy gloom. It presses up against me and people flicker like gray shadows.

I sit in a dark corner on the last metal-and-glass stool of the bar. The counter is polished dark wood and lined with glowing strips of electric neon blue that illuminate the bar and the glass shelf of different wine selections.

The bar's crowded with patrons, all varying degrees of inebriation, leaning over the counter to chat with the pretty bartender and swaying hazardously to the pulsing heat of the music resonating from the enormous sound-boxes placed on either end of the club. The DJ is visible from where I am, sitting in his booth, one hand lifted to clutch the earpiece of his headphones closer into his head, the other working on the disks, sliding and scratching and mixing the music professionally.

I can feel the vibrations of the music throbbing through the floor and snaking into the soles of my feet, making them tingle. The pulse of the bass and the drums and the screaming meaningless vocals make my bones shudder and my muscles twitch with coiling tension.

Every so often, as the crowd swells like the ocean tides, people brush up against me. Their faces and imprints of memories and life flash past me in a blur. I am the calm in the center of the storm, untouched by their chaos, unconcerned by their troubles. A woman with too much makeup smeared all over her pale thin face, eyes large and ringed with smoky kohl, dressed in form-fitting clothes designed to allure. Men possessive and greedy in their motions next to the undulating bodies of women, hair tossing and fanning out in a spray of sweat, leaving behind the heavy remnants of smothering cheap perfume. Everywhere there are people with cups and glasses of alcohol – beer, ale, and fine wines. Some have the telltale dilated pupils and heavy breathing of druggies, all clearly high on one substance or the other.

Amidst all of the chaos and pounding music in the main section of the bar, there are still the faintest hints genteel, cultured tones carrying on conversation in the VIP rooms both upstairs and below filled with high-class socialites – gambling and perhaps a few shady business dealings on the side.

Every time someone draws near, their feverish, sweaty skin press – _too close, too invasive_ – against me. The searching, clinging fingers of prostitutes and reckless alcohol-or-drug-emboldened women ghosting invisible paths across my arms and over my chest, the loud and uneven breathing of an intoxicated couple groping and moaning in my ear, the drunken staggers of desperate bachelors hungry for a taste of easy virtue as they shove past my stool.

It makes my nose wrinkle.

I don't usually associate with other people, especially not in bars like this one. I honestly prefer to be alone more often, with the exception of few.

What can I say? I prefer to isolate myself than deal with all of this chaos. Just look at the bar I'm currently in. Isn't it just disgusting?

I still can't believe I'm here. But business is business and I still need to scout this place out.

Zack has been bugging me all night and day to go live the night life a little. He had recommended this one to me only a few days ago.

It is perhaps no coincidence that I finally took his advice and made it to a freaking stool at the edge of the wine bar of the most popular night club under the Plate that's even got the higher-ups above the Plate talking. Zack's always had a special intuition about the energy of places. If he has so subtly told me to go check it out, then something here must have caught his attention.

Then again, I could just be overestimating him. It wouldn't exactly be the first time.

Even reassured with a hope of a possible purpose, I still feel pretty much out of place.

I'm watching the faceless shadows writhe past when I feel it. That subtle crystal magic that draws me here; it's unmistakable. It burns like fire and stings while numbing like ice. It flows and ripples across my pale skin in shadowed glowing patterns of crystalline waves.

My eyes narrow as I raise my tumbler to my lips and swallow the shimmering amber – almost golden – liquid and feel the burn of the alcohol as it slides down my throat.

There is one creating rifts in the Veil here. That one must be dealt with.

I can't risk having a gateway open here. Especially not this close to the official operating passage.

My head turns almost involuntarily and I make eye contact with the presumed conduit, the bartender's new replacement.

The reaction is instantaneous, shock waves jolting through me, its heady electricity enough to warn but not harm.

I calmly block the conduit's offensive defense with a shield that ripples outward, smirking just a bit.

Then a different kind of electric current sweeps me before I can make proper adjustments, flooding me like liquid heat under my skin, filling me from the inside out and I freeze in wariness.

But it's not a defense the conduit has sent my way. Not an attack of any sort; it will not harm me.

My eyes flick away as though in boredom and the strange connection is gone. Our exchange lasted barely a second, but it is enough to make me intrigued.

Curious, the conduit appears to have no conscious control over their ability, other than an automatic defense upon first laying eyes on strangers. The conduit is creating rifts quite unconsciously.

What was that quote from that book of that other world? "_Curiouser and curiouser."_ How appropriate.

Then I look back to where the conduit stands behind the bar. The conduit has a slightly puzzled expression, but the lines creasing her brow soon ease, and her previously frozen hands resume their movements with quick efficiency.

I study her, taking in every detail of her visage, of her form, of how her signature magic tastes like in the air. She has a bleeding scrape on her palm. I scent the blood and commit it all to memory.

This human female, this conduit… she is important somehow.

I can't seem to stop watching her. A strange yearning fills me.

A decision, impulsive as though it may seem to my kin once they learn of it – because undoubtedly the consequences of what I will do tonight will echo and spread amongst the ranks of my people like wildfire in dry brush – solidifies in my mind from the abstract idea it had been the moment it had been conceived when I first sensed the compulsion.

Quickly and deftly, I weave a bit of my own magic into the conduit's soul, seeping gently into the already-forming slightly glowing scratch on the conduit's palm. Within a few days, the scratch will expand and mold into a glowing crystalline rune unique to her soul. My magic, my scent, will be woven into that.

I smile faintly and keep my eyes on her, lifting my glass to my lips again in a silent toast.

We are bound now, Conduit. Your soul will be mine.

The hunt shall begin.

:-:-:-:-:

_Throne Room, Graffiti World Parallel_

It's dark in the cold, cavernous room. He can barely see anything past the large, obsidian-carved throne set in the walls of the sewers. He can barely see his pale fingers or the glowing eyes of feral, dark creatures that linger in the shadows around him, craving his blood and Soul. He hears their snarls, the scrapes they make along the icy metal, the concrete floors as they claw impatiently. They thirst for him and it's just _want _**want **_want _and _kill _**kill **_kill_.

He smiles faintly. Yes, he can handle dark.

There is a signal given and he feels the reverberations of it in the air, in his very blood. The snarls grow louder, rising like the rumbles of a coming storm and you can see lightning in the distance and it's coming closer and you can't move, can't run.

The boy closes his eyes and his smile grows.

The first of them jumps toward him, reaching him with little more effort than the coiling and spring of a pair of silvery, unsubstantial legs. The moist, sticky pads of the frog-like creature touch his skin and it burns like acid.

"_You're gonna give up and die, is that it?"_

More frogs join the first, hopping all over him, knocking him back and leaving reddened skin in their wake. Then they leap off and there's a drumming sound, of pacing feet. It quickens like a heart racing against time and he hears the echoes of a feral snarl as the wolf impacts him, hitting him like a solid wall of steel and sends him skidding across the floor.

"_Maybe something will happen that can never unhappen, and that scares you, doesn't it?" _

The wolf raises its terrible dark head and calls to its kin. Its pack joins it, a multitude of shifting silvers, grays, and black. They surround him and tear at his flesh, goring bloody marks and ripping clothes. Some knock him across the room again and follow mercilessly to repeat their bloody game.

"_Promise me, alright? Just promise me this."_

His skin scrapes against the rough floor and he lays there for a moment, like a bloodied broken toy that had fallen from favor with the child, the master that had loved it. He feels the chill of the concrete – _the metal, the glass, the blood_ – seep into his skin, cooling it and shooting ice deep into his bones.

"_I want to know you. The _real _you."_

The other creatures join the feast, elephants mercilessly stomping – _"I can't forgive you, but I trust you"_, minks darting about him from everywhere at once to nip at him – _"Look at you; you think you've got it so damn hard!" – _kangaroo-like creatures knocking him flat on his back – "_Damn it! How long were you going to keep _this_ from us?"_ others piercing – _"No, please stop"_, stabbing – "_Listen to me, there's got to be another way"_, clawing – _"I wish that you'd believe in me more",_ biting – _"Hang in there"_, pecking – _"Stay back!"_, hissing – _"No, please stop, STOP, _**STOP!**"

"…"

"_No matter how far away you are... once you find your light... I'm sure it will lead you back here again. Right?"_

"…"

"_Fools set the rules in this world. Just take a look around. It's undeniable."_

Another signal echoes through the cavern and the creatures pause and retreat back to the shadows, though not without reluctance. The boy resumes his sitting position. His expression was unchanging, blank and mostly expressionless were it not for the faint smile still haunting the edges of his lips. He is battered, hair mussed, angry red scratches marring his pale skin, discolored bruises blooming across his face, arm held delicately against crushed ribs.

"_My honor… my dreams… they're yours now."_

His smile shifts into a dangerous, cocky smirk.

"And so the game truly begins," he drawls.

His eyes open, revealing mischievous, sly amethyst eyes. He snaps his fingers, a sudden _click_ in the dark cavernous hall.

"_What you pursue will be yours… but you will lose something very dear."_

:-:-:

_Outer Cityscape, Graffiti World Parallel_

The skies are gray and the land is rocky underfoot, barren of all growth and blackened from poison. It's here where he runs, a lanky teenage boy with narrow tilted foreign eyes and a pair of purple metal headphones covering his ears. He dodges broken glass and chunks of rusting metal and scowls.

Behind him, black shapes of monsters give chase and they draw closer, close enough so that he can hear their bloodthirsty snarls. He stumbles briefly and curses. He's not in the best of conditions. A long jagged line stretches down a pale arm, weeping crimson tears; his clothes are torn, showing skin discoloring with bruises and gashes and abrasions. He's limping slightly and his gait is uneven as he runs, favoring his right leg.

It's as though the creatures behind him can scent his blood and weakness and their pace picks up. They begin to converge and attack.

"Freaking frogs…" the boy mutters as one shoves him over. Ignoring the painful sting of the frog's acid, he flicks his left wrist, concentrating and focusing his energy into one of the small pins attached to the metallic armlet. A blur of glowing blue and white energy shimmers into existence, flying at an amazing speed toward the army of Darkness behind him. It penetrates and sends huge chunks of the creatures sizzling into static, into whatever hellhole they had come out of. It arcs and returns to his hand, shape briefly revealed to be a boomerang before being absorbed back into his hand.

With practiced ease, he switches his focus to a second pin and as he runs, pumps glowing missiles of energy from his palm into the Darkness. Another pin and he's calling down lightning from the gray heavens and frying the creatures into static. A fourth and he's wielding an energy sword, cutting his way through the Dark that blocked his path. Another and with telekinesis, he forcibly hurls away whatever dares to attack him.

The army abates and the creatures of Dark pause, snarl briefly, and disappear into static, going back to whatever hellhole they had been summoned from.

He pauses briefly to tap the last pin, and the icy metal of a soda can solidifies in his hand, slick with condensation. He pops the lid and sips the cure drink (what he prefers to call soda), feeling his strength and stamina return.

Gasping slightly, he shook his head to will away the disorienting bubbling sense of fizzing energy. Dispassionately, he glances briefly at his right hand. Glaring, blood red numbers flash back at him, marring the pale flesh of his palm. His hand throbs with every flash of the timer as the numbers count down.

He clenches his hand, concealing the mark of his stigma. He did not like to be reminded of his fate, his inevitable doom.

He continues on through the rusted ruins of what once had been a thriving, sprawling metropolis of dark glass and metal and concrete, the pulse of a world long past and gone.

There's no turning back for the likes of him.

:-:-:-:-:

_The Eastern Woodlands, Magitek World Parallel_

The smell of smoke and fire is heavy in the air, blanketing a war-torn valley of rocks and mist. A lithe figure darts through the shadowy depths of the forest. Her breaths came labored, her shadow-dark hair slipping free of her ornamental clip. Already the last remnants of her life were unraveling.

Too quickly.

_Run run run run run…_

She dodges rocks and trees that loomed in her path, scurries through underbrush and grass snagging her dress, clambers up hills, and wades through icy streams. Yet the forest closes in on her from all sides, trapping her in a shadowy cage of darkness. She sucks in air desperately, but she chokes and gasps for air. She wanted _out_, out where she could be free and in the light. But the darkness clings to her even in the brightest of shadows like sticky black ichor. She gives a sigh of frustration as she runs, hair whipping into her eyes. Would she never be free of the darkness that had-

_No_, she tells herself firmly. _I'm not going to think of that again. Not now at least._

They're chasing her, horrible half-human creatures grotesquely deformed. Low, hungry snarls and glowing red eyes and snapping fangs and teeth, flecks of drool flying. And there are others, more human but with the same- if not stronger- sense of darkness and evil shrouding them.

One of them laughs as she trips and falls against a sheer rock wall. She quickly leaps to her feet but they have already surrounded her. She lifts her chin defiantly. She may be trapped, but she still has her pride.

The one who had laughed steps forward, dark eyes on her. "Isn't she a fiery thing? Foolish mortal, as if she could defy us." He reaches out to grab her arm and she pulls back with a snarl.

Something very close to anger flashes for a moment in his eyes. He seemed to grow in size towering over her, terrible in his fury. But then that momentary gleam was gone and there is only the slightest hint of irritation mingled with cocky arrogance.

"Come on, sweet cheeks. We can make this easy or difficult, but you're still going to have to come with us. I don't want to waste a pretty mortal like you. And one with such power and liveliness!" He reaches out for her again and she swings her arm in an arc, batting him away furiously.

"Don't touch me!" she hisses and something dark in her breaks free. Power, pure power roars and stretches like a beast inside her. It calls to her, imploring her to set it free.

And she said yes.

Opaque streams of energy streams off her in bursts, causing the man to leap back with a yelp, and then look upon her with a sort of frightened admiration. She throws back her head and opens eyes that shine crimson. The change begins at the roots of her hair, turning it to angel blonde to emerald green to lavender, spreading like ink. Energy and light swells in strength and magnitude, and her delicate, feminine form is momentarily concealed by blinding light. Then the shadows of her form appeared, and the dark ones take a step back at the exotically beautiful yet terrifying-

The air is rent with howls and screams and the earth is drenched with blood.

:-:-:-:-:

_Sector 3, Greater Midgar, Mako World Parallel B_

They're running. The city's dark and full of fury and they run from blasts of thunderous rage and unforgiving steel hands that try to trap them.

Two of them are fighters, though, and one of their own is wounded; they'll do anything to protect her.

They could not afford to let her die.

A soldier leaps at them with a yell, sword flashing, and the man just as quickly lifts his massive sword and slices through him. A strangled cry and a slight crunch as the metal shatters bone, blood splatters the grimy streets and dark fleshy bits of him go with it. He falls, a look of accusation and disbelief visible even through his helmet, but the killer is already moving on without so much as a grimace of regret.

His companion stumbles and loses her hold on their third, and he is there in an instant to support her.

"We can't keep this up. We need someplace safe for her to rest," she hisses to him.

"I know," he replies, and he quickly glances down at the barely conscious young woman he supports with his other companion. The dying woman is deathly pale, silvery blue eyes partially closed, tendrils of silvery red-tinted gold hair clinging to her too-hot sweaty skin. Her breaths come labored and uneven, emanating all the hurt and fragility of a wounded pup.

She is fading. He will not forgive himself if she dies.

His companion shoots him a glare, desperation thinly veiled by the terrified fury in her eyes.

"Cloud - "

"I think I know a place that's safe."

"Take us there."

If it had been any other time, he would have objected to the commanding tone she seems to have developed in the years he has not seen her. But instead he dips his head and tugs them toward a dark side alley that splits off from the main street. They dart in and just as quickly turn into another grimy, barely lit alley filled with trash and the scum of the city. Their footsteps are loud against the concrete and he wishes that they weren't.

They approach an old broken-down building and he shoves his hand under the dusty eaves, probing desperately until his fingers curled around the cold metal of a key. He withdraws it and jiggled it around in the rusted doorknob until a distinct click was heard and it turned.

He pockets the key and steps into the room, his companions quickly following.

It's dark and he can just make out the clutter of what used to be a bar with the weak light streaming in through the soiled, greasy windows. His nose twitched, picking up faint scents of alcohol, sweat, unwashed bodies, smoke, greasy food, and old vomit – but it was all stale. This bar hasn't been open for a very long time.

His companion is gently lowering the younger woman onto a couch with stiff springs poking out of the ancient fabric and bits of stuffing spilling out but the woman sighs like it was the best thing since hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows and quickly falls asleep, her breaths deepening and evening out.

The other woman sighs as well, then turns and plants her fists on her hips, glaring at him.

"Give me one good reason why I should continue to trust you, Strife. Why should I trust you with her life?"

He glares back at her, feeling the mako in his blood rise in response to her hostility, to her almost danger. Her white leather vest gives off a faint glow in the dark room and the energy running through her shoulder pauldrons makes them glow with gold light. Her right hand is not so subtly strategically placed right next to the hilt of her gun blade, and he knows she won't hesitate to draw her weapon if she decided he was a threat.

He misses the days when they were as close as could be and trusted anything and _everything_ with each other and when he could read her like a book and talk without words ever being exchanged. She's closed to him now, though. Too many years and too many lives lost had hardened and changed them both too much.

"She's my sister, too. Do you really think that low of me now? Do you really believe that I would turn both of you in to Shinra?"

_Do I really mean that little to you?_

She stares at him, expression unreadable. She'd learned that from him, all those years ago. They'd called it the 'stone face' and they'd loved using them on their poor relatives who always reacted so amusingly to it.

It's not funny now.

"No." She looks down and away from him. "But that doesn't change the fact that I don't know you anymore. I don't know you or what you're capable of, and that makes you a threat to me."

Her words cut deep through him. He briefly wondered what she saw when she looked at him. A male version of her own face, strong and sharp where hers was soft. Sunshine golden blonde hair that spiked naturally that she'd always said reminded her of a chocobo. Their eyes had always been the same, copied exactly into each other's faces, but now his were ringed with blazing electric green mako and hers were shot through with glowing, translucent silvered crystal.

"Perhaps not." He found the words hard to choke out, his throat dry and quiet but steel voice slightly hoarse. "But I'm still me. I'm still your twin brother. Nothing – and I promise you _nothing – _will ever change that."

"Nothing?" her voice was incredulous, but half-hoping. "Not even the oath you swore that is burned into your soul?"

* * *

><p><em>Seventh Heaven, Mako World Parallel A<em>

Her eyes snapped open. She doubled over, hand on the counter for support. She gasped for air, head spinning with images and impressions and scents that were memories that belonged and yet didn't belong to her. She didn't hear the worried shouts of the people who crowded around her.

_:: Give me one good reason why I should continue to trust you. ::_

She sucked in more air as her head all but split open. What, so now she was hearing voices? Great, just what she needed. As if the strange dreams starting up more than a week ago wasn't enough. A searing pain like icy flame burned her palm.

She focused on her hand. Solely on her hand that had silvery, crystalline tendrils of glowing light twining around it into a pattern that seemed to brand her. The light coated her hand and glowed pale blue and green and then sank into her skin and marked her with a glowing, shimmering rune that seemed made of silvered translucent crystal and pale aqua colored light.

_:: What you will see will eventually become a part of life's dream. ::_

She looked around warily. Who said that? And, the mark…. did nobody see it? The mark on her pale palm? The one that seemed to be spreading up her arm in a crystalline tattoo?

It – it was so conspicuous. Gaia, it was _glowing_.

She darted out of the tavern in a panic, running as shadows began to chase her. She gasped as her vision flashed. Her body went on autopilot but her vision went black.

_:: No matter what happens, isn't it important to try? ::_

:-:-:

She runs, flying through the darkened, gritty streets, her panicked face illuminated by blazing green mako. Her dark hair whips back with her speed, fanning out behind her like shadows on the wind.

So tempting.

He growls a command and his team snarls in response. Glowing eyes, bright with bloodlust and anticipation, narrow as they creep from their hidden posts. They laugh, growling with enjoyment as they chase, and the girl gives an anguished cry of terror as she hears them, but she does not falter in her stride.

It's not often that he pursues mortals because they're always off limits. They are the ones he and his pack are destined to protect. The ones who posed a danger to the crystal energy barriers between the worlds however – _they _were free game.

This girl… she had a strange scent to her, the scent of crystal magic, sharp and alluring. She's dangerous, a threat, and there's no doubt that their night's target is her because she's just run out of a bright, lit bar full of boisterous, laughing mortals and the bar's the place that his faction has been watching.

His brow furrows for a moment but it is only ever for a moment. He himself had given the orders to watch this bar, but for what reasons he can't seem to recall. Strange.

The bar is shrouded in magic and energies and the fact that this girl emerges from that place with crystal magic clinging to her like tendrils of mist is no mere coincidence.

His lips twist in a wicked smirk, pushing aside his needless worrying to deal with later. This girl… this one is fair game.

_Kill _**kill **_kill _**kill **_kill _**kill **_kill_…

One of his subordinates surges forward and surpasses him, stretching for her, for the unprotected vulnerable flesh of her neck.

Searing hatred and sudden protectiveness flare in his veins, and his eyes flash pale jade.

He knocks the insolent one away, shoving him aside and snarling in fury, a promise for a thrashing when the hunt was over.

_**No **__one touches her… __**no one…**_

_Mine _**mine**_ mine _**mine**_ mine…_

She darts aboard a sleek, metallic train, and his pack falters. He ignores their warning howls and surges forward onto the vessel just as the doors slide closed. He lands with a roll and fluidly leaps to his feet and pushes past startled passengers, heedless of their surprised cries.

He approaches her menacingly and inwardly chuckles at her panicked expression, at the way she raised her fists and backed away.

She's nothing more than prey, nothing more than just another target for his faction, another threat to be eliminated.

He'll deal with those other softer, conflicting feelings after the hunt.

Yes. He really should. Soon.

The train screeches to a halt and she leaps off, running, fleeing. Undeterred, he follows like her shadow.

The city above the Plate held a majestic dark beauty, with glistening glass skyscrapers below a dark velvet sky scattered with glimmering stardust and embedded with a full creamy jewel that radiated its otherworldly, lunar light on the city below, bathing it with flickering silver light. The marble fountain shimmers and moonlight glints off the rivulets of water. The streets are lit with mako and from somewhere around him, the pure clear tone of crystal chimes resonates faintly through the icy night air.

The woman stops running and whips around suddenly to face him boldly. He slows, matching her speed and watches her. He isn't particularly worried that she would harm him, and he takes the time to admire her. Her eyes shine with a driving force of shadowy crimson fire, brilliant against her creamy skin, brushed by dark tresses. And oh, light, light and searing holy purity streams off her in waves. It fills her, barely contained in her humanly form, escaping in small rays from her luminous skin.

So tempting.

He absentmindedly begins to circle her, falling into the habit of observing his prey and instilling into them fear. He admires the way she turns slightly to keep him in sight, her wariness and boldness. The shadows that cling to his skin flicker, and he is standing in front of her. She blinks in surprise and he reaches out a gloved hand to tilt her chin up, gently tracing her jaw line, his touch lingering on her skin.

This close, he can better smell her strange scent and analyze her spirit _chakra_ and it's –

It's...

A shiver runs through her and her heartbeat quickens, her breaths slightly more strained. He takes shameless pleasure in how he affects her, and yet he's not in control of the situation. He's intoxicated by her presence, her light searing away the shadows of his hate and chaos and darkness.

Gaia, it _hurt._ He stood there, and her light burns away what bound him to life. But he thought he felt a surge of strength by that same force that was killing him. It frightened him and he was not accustomed to being frightened or unknowing of anything. This female, she was something new. She felt familiar and alien, terrible and awesome all at once.

He hates her for making him react in this manner. His hand tenses, curving on her chin, and her wine-colored eyes close partially. She watches him through half-lidded eyes.

He could break her right now, if he wished to. His eyes glint with intent, hardening cruelly. But he feels weak and not at all himself. There was something that screamed at him to not kill her just now, to not spill her sweet-smelling blood and energy and expose it to the crisp air.

Why is she so familiar?

He can't seem to stop looking into her eyes, beautiful deep eyes that are shadowy pools with tantalizing glints of ruby.

Damn these idiotic, childish feelings of his. So distracting…

He lowers his face to hers, pausing just millimeters before her, their noses brushing. He can feel her heated breath on his face, smelling of crisp mountain air and of water lilies, of moonlight whispers and darkened promises. She trembles in anticipation, and he closes his glowing, inhuman eyes.

And he inhales deeply, sucking in her scent and making it his own, feeling it settle somewhere within him. Images flash before him, images and scents and impressions of her life – no, lives. The edges of his pale lips shift upward in a rare show of emotion.

This close, it's impossible not to recognize her. He wonders briefly how he could ever have forgotten or not known who she was.

Those of his kind didn't forget easily. But he remembered now and knew the consequences of his decision a week or so ago, when still he did not truly know who she was, only that she was a conduit.

He pulls darkness around him and vanishes, the dark revitalizing him and healing the searing touch of that uncommon light. Her eyes widen and search the darkened city frantically. Ruby and gold light streak across the sky with the coming of dawn and a new day. She stands alone on the street, searching, seeking. Waiting.

But he is nowhere to be found.

:-:-:

"Hey! You know, I'm really sorry to bother you but… seriously! You've got to wake up now!"

The first thing she was aware of was a loud voice in her ear. And it felt like she was being roughly shaken by some hand or the other.

And she was cold, chilled, and really stiff, like she'd been sleeping on some hard surface or the other.

And… she thought she felt a breeze whispering over her skin?

Was she outside?

She blinked open her eyes. She was lying in a shadowed alley just slightly off from the main square of the central Midgar Plate. There were two shadowed figures above her; the smaller figure crouched near her and the larger standing further back, outlined by the bright sun overhead.

"Ah! You're finally awake! Are you alright?"

She sat up and a searing pain wracked her. Damn, her brain… was on _fire_. She doubled over, gasping.

"Sweet Minerva! Are you alright?"

"I'm… fine."

"Really? Because you don't look fine to me," a male voice said, bright and infused with good-natured enthusiasm.

"Zack!" the other was female, coming from the delicate figure next to the broader one.

"Well, it's true! She looks kind of…"

"Seriously, Zack! Mind your manners!"

"Alright, alright! Jeez…"

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I haven't introduced myself. I'm Aerith, and the annoyingly rude person over there is Zack."

She stared up at them, trying to focus. She stared intently up at the figure who called herself Aerith, trying to make out details past the glaring sun.

_:: There's always something forgotten. Remember it… Whatever that is, must certainly be what you are looking for. ::_

Large, clear, emerald green eyes. Pale, creamy skin. Warm glow of gently curled clouds of brunette hair framing a delicate heart-shaped face. Pink dress. Hand-woven basket braided with pink ribbons and filled with fragile-looking flowers. Chunky brown boots caked in mud and stray fresh green leaves.

She transferred her gaze to the man behind her. Dark blue eyes that had pale jade radiating out from the pupils into the rest of the dusky iris. A halo of spiky black hair that wreathed his face. A scar like a cross on his cheek. And a massively huge sword strapped to his back.

What the hell? It's a huge hunk of metal. How can he even lift that?

"Um… hello? Are you sure you're okay?"

She suddenly realized that she had been staring and that they had told her their names. And also that she hadn't returned the favor.

"No, I'm fine. I'm…" she had to think for a bit, trying to remember. "Tifa. I'm Tifa."

Was it her imagination or had there been a flash of something – almost recognition – in Aerith's eyes? But it was gone so quickly that she wasn't sure she'd seen it at all. Perhaps a trick of the light.

"Nice meeting you, Tifa. We came across you unconscious here in this alley and I wasn't quite sure what to do. Do you need help getting home?"

"I…" Tifa had to pause. How did she get here anyway? Then it hit her. Of course… she'd been helping out at the bar when she'd had one of those strange flashes. Then… the crystal and lights and that…

Her eyes widened. She looked down at her right hand. The strange crystalline rune was still there, etched into her palm and snaking down to wrap around her wrist.

And after that… she could barely remember, but she had the strangest impressions of seething darkness and glowing eyes. And a sense of almost… security and familiarity?

She leaned forward to cradle her head in her hands.

_Gaia, I'm going insane. _No way had _that_ been real.

"Hey." Aerith crouched down next to her. "I think you should come over to my place to let me fix you up. Did you fall or something? That scratch on your leg looks terrible." She grinned as Tifa looked at her warily. "Sorry if I'm being a little too forward, but quite frankly I don't trust you to make it safely back home without any incident, especially with all the rampant trouble about in Midgar."

"Hey, don't worry about Aerith. She's relatively harmless," Zack supplemented cheerfully, reaching down a hand towards Tifa. She took it and he pulled her up.

He grinned at her but then his expression froze. A crease appeared between his eyebrows and his nose wrinkled. He inhaled suddenly, like a hunting dog that's just caught a peculiar scent, and Tifa found herself leaning back a little as Zack looked at her with a strange expression on his face. He glanced down and wrapped strong fingers around her right wrist.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Tifa squirmed and tried to release her hand from his grip, but Zack ignored her and Aerith's soft gasp of surprise and twisted her wrist sharply, revealing her palm and the silvery rune on it.

The three of them stared down at it and Tifa started to feel a bit self-conscious. "Stop it," she hissed, snapping her wrist out of his grip. He let her go without a fight. Tifa stepped back a bit, fingers automatically curling into fists. Zack and Aerith's reaction to the mark felt… foreboding, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to be around when all of it blew over.

Zack drew in a sharp breath, almost like a rough laugh. "She's the one, Aer. We found her. After all this time in the past weeks, no, _years_, trying to find whoever he was looking for and we just stumble across her in the street, only to find that she has the Mark. Isn't it just ironic, Aer?" He laughed harshly again.

Aerith lowered her head and shook it gently. "It's all happening again, isn't it?" she murmured to Zack. "It's the _kenthra vien _prophecy, right? Just as we'd thought it'd pass over our time."

_:: I was frozen in time, but I feel as if my time is just beginning… ::_

Tifa's eyes widened. What… was that? Who said that? Who had been frozen in time?

Zack's expression tightened. "Sorry, Tifa, but it looks like you'll have to come with us anyway. You're marked now with the _illusio vitrum_ and you'll just attract trouble for yourself if you go home alone."

He turned abruptly on his heel and started to walk away.

"C'mon," Aerith said gently to Tifa. She turned and began to follow Zack. After a moment's hesitation, Tifa did the same.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So, this is my first FF7 fanfiction. I know it may seem a bit confusing and disjointed with all the separate story segments, but I can guarantee that it'll all fit together and make a bit more sense in future chapters. I'm kind of playing around with ideas right now, so… expect reeaaallly slow updates.

For now, I'll base updating off of the overall response of the readers, mostly because I don't feel exactly confident with this story. So! If you do want another chapter installed, have any questions or criticisms/pointers or comments, please give me your feedback through a review.

So, thanks for reading this chapter!

~SapphyreMyst


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